


Something Burning

by zouisweak



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Infinity, M/M, and also i just suck at endings, couldn't make this thaaaat positive, relatively open ended bc even i, the eternal optimist, this is me trying to deal w my emotions, whole lotta talking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-24
Updated: 2015-09-24
Packaged: 2018-04-23 02:00:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4858886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zouisweak/pseuds/zouisweak
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Canon compliant future fic inspired by Infinity, where Louis doesn't know what to do anymore.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Something Burning

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place during their break woo so like this time next year around maybe? idk i wrote this in a fever haze  
> Me, writing canon: *completely ignores the fact that Louis is literally having a child, wtf*

_Oh baby I was there for you, all I ever wanted was the truth._

 

It changes a lot of things for Louis, Zayn leaving. It changes how he trusts and how he talks and how he thinks. It changes what he wants and what he hopes for and what he plans for. It changes most everything, but the most noticeable thing that’s different is time- or rather, how Louis experiences it. It passes in some strange way, now, like how a dream can stretch a minute into an hour, but also show an entire lifetime in a night.

Sometimes it goes faster- he’ll zone out for what feels like a second during a conversation at a party and when he comes back to he’s surrounded by a different group of people. He’ll sit in his room listening to music and suddenly he’s getting a call from Liam telling him that he’s already late for that meeting he thought was hours away.

It’s worse when it goes slower, though. It’s worse when he feels like he’s been crying for hours but it’s only been ten minutes and there’s so much longer to go. It’s worse all the nights where he lies in bed and looks out the window at the stars crowded over with the city’s light and he’s given up on wishing for Zayn, now he’s just wishing for fucking sleep, for just a small break from this, and he’ll feel like he’s been staring for a life time, but the last number on the digital clock will only have changed once, and he’s caught awake for something close to forever, restless energy battling with endless exhaustion, and over that is always the cluelessness, the _what the fuck am I supposed to do, now_.

Maybe that’s why he’s not angry when he gets the call. It’s 3am and Before, he’d play at indignant over his beauty sleep being interrupted, but now it’s just- it’s all the same, isn’t it? 3am, 3pm, any time in between. It’s all the same. Like it’s just been one endless day. Or not day. Night seems so dramatic, but he thinks it’s more accurate. One endless night. City nights like weak tea, faded almost-dark and almost-stars, the feeling like you’re waiting for something more final.

“H’lo?” he says, voice a bit gruff. It’s not from the lack of sleep, just from lack of use. He has kind of locked himself away, and he thinks it might be the first thing he said since a call home yesterday afternoon.

“Hey, Louis, sorry if you were sleeping, I know it’s late.”

“Nah,” Louis says, and then frowns when he registers the voice, “Harry?”

“Yeah, sorry for calling-“

“No it’s fine, I was- I was awake.” It is fine, but it’s weird, unexpected. Harry has always been elusive. Louis has kept in contact with Liam and Niall pretty well, but “keeping in contact” isn’t really the done thing with Harry. He’s either there or he’s not, he’s not exactly pen-pal material. So Louis’ a bit- it worries him, the call. He gets the feeling that whatever it is, it’s going to be a Big Deal.

“Right, and like. You’re still in London, yeah?”

“Uh, yeah?” Louis says, wondering if Harry needs a place to stay. He saw in the papers that he’d come back to London himself a few days back, and for a millionaire he always has had trouble just booking a hotel room.

“Shit.”

“What?”

“Uh, see, Lou, I’m at a party, and there are- y’know. Industry people here.”

“Of course.” For someone taking a break, Harry hadn’t really left that scene much. It’d always fitted him so well.

 “And it like, obviously it could just be rumour, but the people I’m hearing it from, I dunno. It seems legit.”

“You’re scaring me, Harold.” He's too tired to even try to make it sound like a joke.

“I think Zayn might be coming here. To London. He’s- recording.”

For a while, Louis doesn’t register what that means. He’s too busy marvelling at how easily, naturally Harry says the name. Like it’s harmless. Louis hasn’t said it in over a year, certain it’d cut his mouth open if he tried. He thinks if he said it, he’d just get lost in how it sounds, would forget to finish the sentence. He thinks it’s a vicious word, one heavy with implications. He thinks it’s careless of Harry to toss it around like that.

“…I just wanted you to hear it from someone you knew first. Thought you should know before, well. You know.”

It’s only then that Louis fully realises what Harry just said.

Zayn’s coming back.

He hangs up.

~

He must fall asleep at some point, because he wakes up in the morning, and Niall has let himself in. He’s in London for the week, writing with some band he thinks has potential, but even so, Louis should still be slightly taken aback at seeing him. He’s not. He grimaces at him, lifting a finger to say _once I’ve had tea and I’m not feeling quite so incapable of facing the world, I’ll deal with you._

He makes Niall a cuppa, too, pulls out some cold pizza from the night before for the both of them to enjoy, because he loves Niall and he’s never been a fussy guest.

When he walks in to the living room, Niall looks at him. “Heard the news?” he asks.

Louis nods, once, short. Niall looks at him, as if for guidance. Louis just shrugs, and Niall shrugs back, turns to the television. If Liam was there, he’d shove at Niall, chastise him for “enabling” Louis. He always wants Louis to talk. It’s been over a year, and he still thinks it would be solved if Louis would just talk. It wouldn’t, not at all. There’s nothing to say. Not to Zayn, not to anyone.

When he thinks about it, what happened, how he still doesn’t fully understand it- his fantasies are always about going back in time, stopping it from happening, convincing Zayn to stay. They’re never about calling Zayn up now, never about solving the problem. Even the wildest parts of his subconscious seem to have worked out how unrealistic that is.

~

Harry was right. Zayn is back. Louis sees the pictures, thanks to the newspaper delivery he hasn’t cancelled. He always means to, but he never gets around to it. It’s how he feels about most things, those days. Feels like his life is one of those channels on old TVs with nothing but static, whereas everyone else’s is an action packed adventure.

Including, according to the headlines, Zayn’s. But he tries not to think about that. Easier said than done- he’s got a job and friends, but he still doesn’t really have anything _else_ to think about.

It’s this awful paradox that taunts him- his life is busy, but his mind’s not. He feels- stagnant, almost, same thoughts on a replay while everything around him is fast forward.

He’s avoiding Liam, too, which sucks. Liam is the only other one of the group who’s permanently in England and their friendship hasn’t faded even though they no longer work together.

It’s what makes it so transparent that Louis is avoiding him, because they met up at least twice a week, and when they didn’t they’d call. But now it’s been two, and the papers are still printing pictures of Zayn in London that Louis physically has to stop himself from staring at, and he still hasn’t responded to any of Liam’s texts.

Liam was never really upset about Zayn leaving, not properly. He’s not the kind to hold grudges, and other than Andy Zayn was his first proper friend, and stuff like that means a lot to Liam, especially considering what he went through as a kid. So, even though they haven’t talked about it, it’s obvious to Louis that Liam has stayed in contact with him. Not idle texts here and there, either, but proper engagement. And Louis knows what that means, without a shadow of a doubt- that with Zayn in London, Liam has definitely met up with him. Louis hates it, hates how much Zayn would love that, how happy he’d be, how he can picture the one armed hug he’d have given Liam, the excited smile, the _so good to see you, man._

He hates it because he knows he could have it too, if he asked. One of the last things Zayn said- _we can still be friends, yeah_?- still rattles in Louis’ head, louder than it has any right to, because it’s just not true, never was, even if Zayn didn’t realise it. And Zayn probably _didn’t_ realise, because he never seemed to realise how big a deal it was to Louis. It’s not like Louis got angry at him, much to everyone’s surprise. It’s not like they had a fight when Zayn finally told him, not like what they had ever ended, not officially. There was never even any closure, either, and maybe that’s why it still feels like an open wound, still feels the same it did all those months ago. His memories make him fall in love with Zayn every day, and they break his heart every day, too, and it’s endless, and-

He knows he could call Zayn, could try for casual, act like hearing his voice down the end of the line every few weeks would be enough. But every second of pain of the past year is still in him, and he doesn’t think there’s room for any more.

Liam wouldn’t get that, doesn’t. No one does, not really- they don’t understand why Louis can’t let it go. It’s different for them, because they’re okay with knowing that _Zayn was going through some things_ , and _leaving was what was best_. Louis could never be satisfied with just that, though. He thinks of it and he feels completely fucking betrayed, that Zayn never told him how bad it was getting, never thought it was something he could share with Louis, never fucking trusted him, hates that he still doesn’t know the details of what Zayn endured. He can’t put this into words without sounding like a child, though, so he doesn’t explain it to anyone, and everyone stays confused about his seemingly extreme reaction. That’s fine, for the most part, because even if they don’t understand it they don’t question it, either.

Except for Liam. Louis tries to have patience, because he knows how hard it must be for him, to see his two closest friends like this, to see Zayn and Louis not being zaynandlouis. But it’s difficult, because Liam has always been too pro-active for his own good, has never met a problem that he didn’t want to solve.

Louis isn’t looking for solutions. So he ignores Liam.

~

Except, of course, Louis knows- Liam doesn’t really take no for an answer.

He’s in the park near his flat, his place for the nights where sleep is especially stubborn. It’s cold and the bench is damp but it makes him feel more real, more solid than he has in a while, the way he can see his breath condense in front of him. Proof that he is, in fact, alive, despite all the evidence to the contrary.

If it was anyone else he’d be surprised that they found him, but Liam spent a week with Louis at the start of the break, knows all his old haunts. He approaches cautiously, sitting beside Louis slowly like he’s going to lash out. He doesn’t offer any explanation for his presence, and Louis doesn’t ask.

"Soph was talking to Lottie, said you were thinking of going down this weekend?" Liam always starts with small talk. Louis sees it as a warm up.

"Yeah, haven’t seen them in a while."

"That'll be nice."

Louis laughs. "Depends on your definition."

There's silence. Louis refuses to play along, to ask about his sisters or Sophia or whatever else. If Liam wants to talk to Louis, Louis’ not going to hold his hand through it. Eventually Liam picks up on this, and says what he came there to say.

"You can't go the rest of your life without seeing him, you know. Even if you want to. And I don't see why you would. It's hurting him, Lou. He misses you."

It makes something in him ache, because Louis knows Liam isn't lying. Zayn probably does miss him. Not as much as Louis misses Zayn, but still. He lost his best friend, it's going to suck, at least a little bit.

But that doesn't change anything. Louis isn't avoiding him to be a prick, he didn't reject his calls to hurt him. He did it to protect himself. They miss each other, and it hurts, but there's no solution to it. He sounds like an asshole, but unless Zayn is willing to offer what Louis wants, they're not going to move on from this. Pretending otherwise would just make it worse.

"I know. I'm sorry."

"Then why don't you do something?"

Louis shrugs, even though he knows it's something that annoys Liam. "Nothing to be done. I couldn't-" he pauses. There's no one who he'd say this to other than Liam. "I couldn't survive with just some phone calls, here and there. All or nothing, me."

"He'd make an effort with you." Liam mightn’t realise it but it’s a cruel thing to say, to tempt Louis like that. It’s not something he even thinks about, that possibility.

"I don't want to be a fucking responsibility."

"You're not-"

"I know this is hard for you, Li, and I hate that you've been caught in the middle of it but it's not getting better anytime soon. I know you find shit like that hard to deal with, I know you like to solve problems, but you're just gonna have to get over it."

He sounds pissed by the end, and he is, a bit. No one gets it so he hates that they even try.

"I will if you will."

Louis huffs out a laugh that clouds above them, rolls his head along the back of the bench to look at Liam. He looks good, the break has treated him well. He smiles down at Louis, sighing.

"There's a thing, in a month."

"A thing."

"For Zayn. A party, kind of, he's going to release a single. Niall will be back in Ireland by then, but me and Harry are gonna go." Louis gets the sudden sinking feeling that this is something the three of them have talked about a lot. They probably fought over who had to tell Louis.

"There’ll be some level of media coverage and it'd be good press, having our support. For us and for him. It'd also just be good for him in general, you know he'd like it to have us there. Including you."

"Liam," Louis says warningly, even though he had seen it coming.

"It'd put those feud rumours to rest, probably, once and for all. I know how much you hate those."

"Almost as much as I'd hate to go to that party. Not quite, though."

"You wouldn't have to talk to him really. Maybe a few words, but it'd be in front of other people. We're gonna know a lot of the crowd, Julian and Caroline are going, and probably other people you like. You could just talk to them."

Louis rolls his eyes. Liam squeezes his shoulder. He must realise he won't get anything more than that out of him.

~

Liam’s right, about one thing anyway. The top of the London music scene is relatively small. They’re bound to run into each other.

The first time it happens Louis thinks it must have been at least a month since Zayn arrived, but he couldn’t really say. His purposelessness has only gotten worse knowing that the cause of it is so near, and more than ever he feels like he’s just kind of- there. No reason, no guidance, no plan, just existing- so he’s even less interested in timekeeping than he was before.  It’s definitely been a while, though, long enough that it seems like a normal by now, knowing Zayn’s in London. Louis still hates it, though.

It’s at a bar, a coincidence, one Louis comes to every Friday evening after finishing at the label.  He remembers watching Casablanca recently, and “of all the gin-joints in all the towns in all the world, she walks into mine.”

Except this place isn’t his. He has no claim over it, even though he’s the one who comes here regularly, he’s the one who lives in London. Louis doesn’t feel any sense of territory, of power, not when he sees him walk in, shades pushed onto dangerously gelled hair, leather and tight jeans and such a walking stereotype it wouldn’t work if it wasn’t Zayn.

Instead, Louis feels like he should leave, like he has to, like he’s overstepping. He doesn’t feel like he belongs, and he hasn’t felt it in a while, anywhere- but it’s at its worst now, because it contrasts so deeply with the sense of control Zayn has always exuded- not just that he belongs in a room, but that the room belongs to him. Louis’ talking to two girls from a band he’s working with, and he pulls his eyes away from Zayn and the group he walked in with before they can notice his distraction. With a mumbled excuse, he slips off his seat and heads to the smoking area, needing some cold air, hoping Zayn didn’t see him.

It’s a little orchard like place, walls covered in ivy, nicer than he’d expect, but then so is the whole bar. There’s a nook in the corner, where he can sit and be protected from people seeing him by a protrusion of the fencing, just as covered in creeper as the walls. Naturally, it’s where Louis goes.  

He doesn’t know how long passes before he hears the heavy iron door being pushed open, and then slamming shut the way it always does no matter how gentle you try to be.

Louis can see through the gaps in the leaves, and it’s Zayn, of course. It’s instantly clear that he’s not just there for a fag. He’s looking around, and Louis gives himself a few moments to soak it in, the way the moonlight pools in his bones, the way his lips curve and his eyes shine, the way his body slopes, before sighing, pushing himself along the benching till he’s back in clear view. It takes a few seconds for Zayn to see him what with the dark, and Louis is grateful for that.

Then, they catch eyes and Louis’ heart starts beating again, pumping colours and feelings and adrenaline criss-cross through his arteries. He sucks in a breath, revelling in the cold sting on his lungs, hoping it’ll extinguish some of the Hope and Love and other scary things blooming in him, with just once glimpse of the man.

Zayn doesn’t move from where he’s standing, and whether it’s shock or cluelessness or fear of approaching Louis, Louis doesn’t know.

He clears his throat. “How are you?” he asks. It doesn’t sound casual, not the way that question usually does. It sounds like he wants to know.

Louis looks at him. He doesn’t see the point in lying, but he doesn’t have the energy to tell the truth. He shrugs. “Same,” he says, hoping Zayn won’t ask _same as what._

He doesn’t. He tilts his head to the side, biting his lip, before shrugging back.

"Right.” He pauses, begins to take a step forward but stops, letting one of his feet rest awkwardly mid-drag on the ground. “Did Li tell you? About the party?"

Louis feels slightly thrown to hear Zayn refer to Liam by a nickname, no matter how routine it had been, once. He can't imagine that Zayn would ever call Louis anything other than his full name now, and even then probably only when he needs to. If he ever needs to, anymore. Louis can't see why he would. Zayn has a whole new world built around him, for him, full of other people, and Louis doesn’t feel particularly relevant.

"Yeah. Congrats on the single, man."

Zayn lights up, like it means something to him, and Louis is glad. He was being genuine. He's so proud.

He also knows it wasn't the response Zayn was looking for. It hurts to think that Zayn knew Louis was going to be invited. It makes him feel even guiltier over the fact he doesn't plan on going. 

"You should try and make it. If you want. We could catch up." Salt in wound, the hope on Zayn's face. Louis just looks up at him, can't say anything but hopes the silence is answer enough.

It must be, because then his shoulders kind of drop, and he sucks his lips in momentarily. “I know you’re mad, but we’re in the same circles. You should- we should at least try.”

It kills Louis, the way he says it. Like it’s only practical. Like it’s not something he necessarily wants, just what he thinks would work best. What they had was never about what worked best before, it was never about convenience. Apparently that’s another thing that’s changed. Louis just doesn’t understand what happened. He can’t work out where he went wrong.

 The wording, too, is painfully familiar, so similar to what Liam had said. And Louis knows, instantly, that they talked about it, talked about him, just like Liam talked about him with Niall and Harry. It fills him with shame, makes him want to run. He hates how obvious he is with his sadness, wishes he could play it off, not seem so- lost. Zayn must be able to read his distress like a book.

“I’m in the same circles as a lot of people I don’t try with.”

“Louis…” he says and he sounds fucking broken. It just adds to Louis’ confusion.

“What?”

“Please- please don’t be mad at me.”

 Louis crumples, because what he feels, it’s not anger- he thought Zayn got that- it’s defeat. He was never upset at Zayn, never bitter, never blamed him. He just wished he got an explanation. He just wished Zayn trusted him enough to let him be part of whatever it was he was going through.

Louis sighs, leans his back against the cold wall. He feels a twig prick against his scalp.

“This isn’t me being mad. It’s me being- realistic. I can’t...” he sighs. This might be one of the last time he sees Zayn, and easily one of the ones where they’re actually alone. Might as well take a risk. “What you’re willing to offer isn’t enough. I’m sorry.”

Zayn looks- lost, eyes wide, hands hanging by his side with fingers stretched out. Louis gets up walks past him, gives enough space between them to not touch but he still gets that smell, leather and salt and something softer, like vanilla maybe, the same as it pretty much always has been. The first while after Zayn left, when he was still in denial, he would try so hard to remember it and he never could, not properly, and he hated himself for the bag of neatly folded clothes he had sent on to Zayn’s old address, all that he’d borrowed and stolen and shared. He had wished he’d kept it for himself, once he realised he’d never get to smell that smell again. He tightens his jaw, refuses to break down. He never has, not yet, and he’s not going to do it over something like this. It’s part of the past. It’s all part of the past.

~

He knows he won’t be able to sleep that night, can feel it in how his skin prickles, hair on end, so when he gets into his car he doesn’t go in the direction of home. Instead he takes a road he’s never seen before, wide and empty, and then another road and another until he’s properly lost. It feels strangely like an accomplishment, parked in front of a block of flats he’s never seen before. His skin and the upholstery is tinted with gold streetlight, and he doesn’t think at all. He feels somewhat numb, especially when the city wakes up and traffic starts pouring past his window. He wonders what they make of him. He doesn’t really care.

~

Louis doesn’t think he had actually made any progress, but if he had, running into Zayn would have ruined it. He never let his feelings interfere with his work, but now he’s even off in the office, spacing out and getting confused over simple tasks. It just threw him, is all. He wishes he had had some time to prepare, before facing him like that. He doesn’t think it’d be right to say he forgot what Zayn looked like, but there’s so much to him that Louis couldn’t say he ever really memorised it completely, either. Every inch of him is a miracle, Louis thinks, but he always forgets just how true that is until he’s right there in front of him.

He’s given up on sleep completely, now, after a brief stint with sleeping pills that didn’t work out. He’s taken to night driving, a lot, around the city, somewhere new each time. It’ll be completely silent other than the engine, and he’ll let instinct take over, hands clutching the wheel even after he’s pulled over. He’ll stop at some place he’ll find, if he can’t see any cars around, a parking lot of an abandoned office block, the road outside some run down shops, a long line of green near a park. He’ll drift in and out of something like sleep for a few hours, a crick in his neck from the seat almost permanent, and he won’t notice the night and the stars fading away above him, won’t notice the sun coming back. His understanding of time has redefined itself, again. He now sees it in no way other than in relation to that party. 13 days, 12 days, 10 days, 7 days.

~

In a move no one could’ve predicted, it’s Niall who convinces Louis to go. He does it in that way of his, so offhand Louis would think it must be deliberate if it was anyone other than Niall. They’re skyping, and it’s more of a business call than anything, Niall asking him for help with some lyrics. There’s a lull, when they figure out how to end the chorus, and then-

“So, you goin’?”

Louis instantly knows what he’s talking about. “Nope.”

Niall’s eyes widen. “Oh,” he says, after a pause.

Louis huffs out a laugh. “You sound surprised.”

“I am, I guess. I thought you’d- never mind.”

Usually Louis would let him leave it, because it’s not exactly an area he enjoys talking about, but now he’s genuinely curious.

“No, what were you gonna say, Ni?” he asks, mock stern.

“I dunno, just- this is the chance you’ve been waiting for, right? To get some answers, and shit.”

Louis’ eyes widened. Even though he knows that’s what he wants, it seems terrifying when put into words. When phrased like it’s a real possibility. “You think that’s a good idea?” he asks, softly.

Niall looks taken aback. Louis isn’t the type to ask him for advice, usually. “Well, I mean. When else? He’s probably gonna go back to LA once the single’s launched, so, might be one of your last chances…” he trails off, but Louis can tell he has more to say. He nods his head in encouragement.

“like, Louis, you’re stuck in a rut, and you shouldn’t- I know you’ve some awful pride, like, but you need to cop on about this. Don’t be a child, I know it’ll hurt, but just- ask him what you want to ask him.”

“If it was that simple I would’ve just called him.”

“Nah, mate, y’need to see him. And- I think it’d help, clear it up, if you saw what he’s got now. If you saw what he left for. I think you’d understand better.”

Niall looks awkward as Louis’ ever seen him, which makes sense. Louis feels a bit awkward, too. He bites his lip, shrugs. They move on.

~

He calls Liam that night, three days before the party. “You’re not allowed to- don’t act like it’s a big deal, okay?”

“What?” Liam asks, and Louis can tell he already knows what he’s going to say.

“Is it, like- is it too late to accept the invitation?”

“Nah, man, not at all.” Louis can hear the amount of restraint required to keep his voice calm. “I’ll email you on the details, yeah? I’ll see you there.”

~

It feels weird, coming to these parties. He always feels out of place, and he never really sees them as parties, anyway, not by his definition. They’re stifling and formulaic, the opposite of what he wants, but even outside of One Direction he has obligations, it seems, so he shows up anyway. He’s not alone walking in, which he’s grateful for, flanked by Harry and Liam who are both done up pretty and proper. Louis spent an embarrassing amount of time agonizing over what to wear, so long that in the end he just got frustrated and pulled on the first thing from his wardrobe.

The paparazzi lights go manic when they step out of the car, and Louis gets why. There’d been rumours but no one knew they were going to show up. He supposes it’s big news, but he wishes it wasn’t. He’s managed to almost completely stay out of the paper during the past months, and he’s become unused to it. When they make it to the lobby he clenches his eyes shut for a few seconds, the camera flashes exploding like stars under his eyelids. Liam nudges at him, lightly, indicating for them to go the main room.

He doesn’t know what he expected, but it’s sort of sickening- the guests and the music and the waiters and the décor.

It’s just _so_ painfully similar to the ones he’s been to before, the ones he and Zayn used to sneak out of, or go to the kitchens and fuck around with the caterers. The ones he and Zayn couldn’t fucking stand.

He knows he has no right to worry, but he does. He’s heard that there’s a good side to the industry, but he never got to see it, so it’s still hard to believe, and when he hears about Zayn, the parties and the recording and the interviews- he can’t help but worry. Zayn always hated it, and Louis knows he’s not alone now, far from it, but he doesn’t have Louis, and he used to say Louis was what got him through it. As much as it pains him, Louis hopes it’s not true, not anymore. Louis hopes Zayn doesn’t need him, doesn’t need anything. He hopes he reached the freedom and the happiness he was sure leaving the band would bring him. He just- he just wants him to be okay.

He just can’t believe this is Zayn’s party, that this is what he wants. He feels so fucking clueless, all over again. He spent so long thinking he knew Zayn inside and out, but every second of the past year seems to be dedicated to disproving that.

Like Liam said there would be, there are plenty of people he recognises, so he doesn’t feel too bad when he immediately loses Harry and Liam to the crowd, Harry with an encouraging squeeze to his waist. He briefly wonders if Zayn would still be jealous if he saw that, like he used to get, but he brushes it off. He sees a DJ who had done work with one of the artists under Louis’ label that he never got to talk to properly, and decides to start there.

He works the room in a way he hasn’t had to in so long, and it’s oddly reassuring that that, at least, hasn’t changed. He talks to so many people that seem no different to when he first met them at nineteen.

It’s a bigger gathering than he would’ve imagined, and he manages to go an hour without seeing Zayn.

It’s not long enough. It’s just as jarring as it was in the pub, if not more so, because now Zayn- he’s in his fucking element. He looks absolutely beautiful where he is, off to the side of the room, leaning against a table and talking to a group he’s clearly the centre of. And Louis knows, has always known, that everyone who meets him loves him, but he’s never seen Zayn love them back, not like this. He looks so goddamn relaxed, doesn’t seem stressed or pissed or bored, seems like- himself.

Louis would’ve guessed the sight would make him bitter, and in a way it does, wishing he was there to see it properly, but mostly he’s just so proud. And relieved, a weight off his shoulders that this is going at least kind of the way Zayn wants it. He looks… in control, and Louis never got a full explanation but he thinks that was something Zayn did really want.

He has to turn away, it’s too fucking much, everything he’s feeling, and he can’t have Zayn see him like this. It feels weird to think that Zayn had asked him to come, because he knows how out of place he must look.

He goes through a door that leads to the corridor where the toilets are. To the left, there’s a stairwell, and he climbs up it. The place is three stories, and he goes all the way up until he opens the fire escape to the roof. The cold air freezes through him, and he thinks about how much better this suits him, rather than the warmth and music of the party. He leans against the wall surrounding the roof, looking out at the city. He doesn’t feel anything.

After a few minutes he hears the door open again and he knows it’s Zayn, even before the boy comes up to stand beside him. Louis refuses to look at him, but he can feel the heat pour off his body.

It's the closest they’ve been since Zayn left, physically, and it’s an experience he knows he could get lost in, though the sounds of the party are still echoing in Louis' head, a reminder of reality- that this isn’t his, not any more, even if he doesn’t understand _why_ it’s not. It’s overwhelming, because he has so much he wants to say to Zayn, wants to ask him, but in that moment his mind just goes blank.

He looks behind him, and the door is propped open. He could leave, if he wanted.

He doesn’t. Zayn props his elbows beside Louis’, looks out on the city below them. He’s only still for a few moments before he pulls back, takes a box and lighter out of his pocket. He extends it to Louis, but Louis shakes his head. It would seem too much like a connection. Zayn shrugs, pulls out one for himself before pocketing it himself. The night holds a harsh wind, and he cups his hand around the cig, the light flickering in and out before catching. Through it all, he’s staring at Louis. Blatant. Louis can see it out of the corner of his eye, but he refuses to engage.

"Do you blame me?" Zayn asks, like he's afraid of the answer.

"For leaving the band? Nah," Louis says, because how could he? How could he ever deny Zayn what he needs? Zayn relaxes, minutely, but Louis speaks again, quieter.  
  
"For leaving me?" He shrugs. He doesn't know. He's upset about the spot Zayn left in his life, without explaining to him how to fix it.

"Do you think we'll ever just be- be normal?" It's a strange word choice. As far as Louis can see it, they never were normal. He knows what Zayn means- _will your instinct always be to run away when you see me, or will we get past that?_

He sighs. He should've known just how hard this would be. "I can't. I'm sorry. I know you all are... Are okay, and are being friends, still. It's too hard for me. I can't be casual with you, I'm sorry. I want to but I can't."

"It’s hard for me, too," Zayn says, quiet.

"Well. I'm sorry for any inconvenience." It's meant to be sarcastic but it comes out as what's probably the most honest thing he's said in a while. He never wanted to get in Zayn's way. "I think I'll go back inside."

Zayn looks at him, wide eyes searching, before he nods. "Sure. Whatever you need Lou." He says it like he doesn't know that the only thing Louis has ever needed was him. He doesn't look away and Louis hasn't been looked at like that in so long, like someone actually understands what it is they're seeing. He turns from it, walks away.

"If leaving was what you needed to do, then of course I don't blame you," he says, not looking back, standing in the doorway. "I've always wanted- wanted what's best for you. I hope it all worked out. I hope it all works out."

He returns to the party, goes to the bar and orders two shots. By the time he’s downed them both he sees Zayn come through the door he had disappeared through, and he’s instantly caught in a conversation. Louis wonders if anyone noticed that they had both come out of it, if they would ask him about it. He wants them to. He wants Zayn to have to give an explanation, if only for that.

 Louis puts down some money to cover the bill, and goes to the cloakroom, picks up his coat, before heading to the lobbie of the venue.

It’s almost a test, in his fucked up mind, walking out that door. _If he really cares, if he ever cared, he’d notice. If he wanted you he wouldn’t let you leave. If he doesn’t stop you then he must have moved on, must be too distracted by all these people fawning over him_.

No one tries to stop him, of course. No one notices, why would they, but Louis feels like a child about it, wants to throw a fucking tantrum.

It’s not fucking fair because _Louis_ supported him. It was Louis who never left his fucking side when it got worse, Louis who fielded questions and tried his best to keep his mind off things. They were literally inseparable, and Zayn himself has said how grateful he was for that, Louis was always, always, always there for him, and now Zayn’s just- he’s fucking moved on. He’s moved on and he’s surrounded by all these beautiful people who don’t even fucking know him, but then again Louis doesn’t really either, does he? He never knew a Zayn who kept secrets, who made big decisions without telling Louis.

He flags one of the many taxi’s lurking outside the club, lets his mouth give the address to his flat.

~

To absolutely no one’s surprise, he can’t sleep. He knew he wouldn’t be able to, didn’t even change out of his clothes beyond tugging off his jeans and shoes. He still lies in the bed, staring at his ceiling, for a good half hour before admitting defeat, though. He pulls on some sweats and opens the drawer of his bedside table, takes out the pack of skins and amber leaf, before making his way to the balcony, sitting out in the cold.

He’s smoked half of the tobacco he had left by the time the taxi pulls up. He’s on the fourth floor, he sees it clearly when Zayn climbs out. His hands are shaking so he clenches them in his shirt, crinkling it. He rubs a hand over his face, so so glad Zayn hasn’t looked up. He doesn’t know how long there is between him seeing Zayn and the buzzer ringing out through his flat, but it’s not long enough to prepare, that’s for sure. He crushes the filter beneath his foot and drags a hand down his face. “Fuck,” he mutters, before getting up and opening the door.

Zayn’s out of breath, and Louis wonders why he didn’t use the lift until he remembers that there’s a code for that, and it would’ve changed since Zayn was last there.

“You still live here,” Zayn says. He sounds surprised, and it frustrates Louis, that Zayn would think his life is different, that Louis would have the motivation to change it. He wants Zayn to fully understand just how fucked up he got Louis. 

“Not even been two years, mate,” he says. “Not that surprising.”

“Feels like longer,” Zayn says, and it’s strange to hear it, because it’s so true. Louis doesn’t know if it’s a throwaway comment or something bigger, but he can’t help wondering if Zayn went through some of what he did.

“Yeah,” he says, a bit too quickly. “Yeah it really does.”

Zayn doesn’t say anything more, and Louis slumps against the doorway. “Any reason you showed up?” When Zayn stays silent, Louis allows himself a small smile. “Host leaving his own party, not good style, that.”

“I wasn’t the host- I…” he fades off, and Louis wants to fucking scream. He doesn’t get why Zayn’s there if he doesn’t actually have anything to fucking say.

“You?” He prompts.

“It was my manager, and stuff, who arranged it. I would’ve- wanted something more chilled, I guess.” He’s rubbing the back of his neck, and he must know how transparent he is.

“It was nice, though,” Louis says, because even now he can’t stop himself. “You were- you were good, there.”

His stomach feels hollowed at the smile that graces Zayn’s face for a moment when he says it, and Louis is quick to change the subject.

“Still haven’t explained why you left.” He means the party. Why he left the party.

Zayn blows some air through a pout, and Louis is overwhelmed with how much he still loves him. “Wanna- wanna go for a drive?”

“You want to go for a drive?” Louis raises his eyebrow, pulling at the hem of his shirt. 

“Just. Want to get away from it, for a bit.” He pauses, gives a small laugh. Nervous, Louis thinks. “And, like. Thought maybe we could talk.”

Louis doesn’t let himself think about it. This is what he needs. This’ll be good for them. “Let me get my jacket.”

~

It’s only one am when they climb into the car, but the roads are calm. As if in respect for the stillness, they don’t talk. Louis focuses on how Zayn’s hands look around the wheel. So much looser than Louis’, so much more confident. It should fuck him up, but being around Zayn is almost therapeutic. Louis feels himself relaxing into the leather, lulled by the vibrations of the engine.

They drive until there's stars, proper ones like Louis hasn't seen in God knows how long, had forgotten existed with the amount of time he spent staring at the murky London sky. They pull in in the car park of an industrial estate off the motorway that should probably be locked but isn’t. Louis just sits there, clueless, Zayn patting a beat into the steering wheel before pressing the button by the door that makes the roof fold down. He unstraps himself and reaches behind him. Louis doesn’t see what for, too busy tightening his jacket against the cold. He can’t contain the laugh when he registers that it was a blanket Zayn was retrieving. “Is this a picnic?”

Zayn gives a crooked grin, looking down, and God. _He’ssobeautiful._ “Fuck off.”

“No seriously,” Louis says, because this he can do. This reminds him of the times he’s been thinking of for the past year, the times when it was easy. “You came prepared, Malik.”

It’s the closest he’s come to saying his name. Zayn’s smile softens. “Well. I’ve wanted the chance to talk to you for a while, now. So.”

Louis looks away, looks up, focuses on the ink-navy sky, but when Zayn offers him one end of the blanket, he takes it. It feels absolutely surreal, sitting there with him in the cold, in the middle of the night. Time doesn’t speed up, and it doesn’t slow down. It just stops. “Well, then. Talk,” he says, trying to sound sharp. Everything feels so soft, though. He’s so tired. If he had less pride he’d probably snuggle into the blanket.

“I don’t really know where to start.”

Louis- it annoys him, how clueless Zayn is acting when in reality he’s the one with the answers. The stars above them are so bright, and Louis thinks it should help put things in perspective. He should be able to look up at the sky, at its magnitude, and realise how inconsequential what he’s going through is. He can’t. He’s irreversibly wrapped up in it.

“Why did you never tell me? That you weren’t happy? Obviously, I knew but- fuck, why didn’t you tell me how bad it got?”

Zayn shrugs. “Didn’t want to upset you.” Louis knows he must know how weak that sounds.

“Come off it. You know keeping shit from me hurts more than the truth ever could.”

“I know, and I- I wanted to tell you, but I couldn’t. You always wanted to make everything better. You would’ve tried to make it better, but you wouldn’t have been able, and you would’ve hated it, Louis, it would’ve drove you mad. I couldn’t do that to you.”

“That’s not good enough. You weren’t supposed to take care of me. We were equals, you were supposed to trust me.”

“It wasn’t about trust, of course I trusted you.”

“You lied to me,” Louis says, blinking at him, incredulous.

“What else was I to do, Lou? What would you’ve done? I couldn’t- you were so happy, I couldn’t take that from you.”

“But you _did._ Do I look happy now?” Louis asks. Zayn looks away.

“I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, well.” Louis sighs. It’s not quite as satisfying as he thought it would be. He has to stifle a yawn- doesn’t want to be rude. He wouldn’t have imagined he’d care about manners in a situation like this. He just never wants to hurt Zayn’s feelings. “I just- I thought you were, like, the one person I could count on. To be honest with me. And I just. You fucking left me. I honestly- I never saw it coming. I really didn’t.” He doesn’t get it. He’d have given Zayn all the truth there was, even if it was painful- it’s what he’s doing right now, for Christ’s sake. That’s what trust is.

“I know and I- it was shit of me. The way I left us. I should’ve told the truth, and I’m sorry, but you- I was so scared, Louis, and I’m sorry-”

“Just tell me-” he interrupts, squeezing his eyes shut. “Just- I loved you, so much, Zayn, and I just- was it- did it mean something to you? At any point? What we had, I mean.” It’s selfish, but he needs to know. It’s been bothering him for so long, nights spent sorting through memories, trying to work out which ones to believe in.

Zayn twists his lip in, shakes his lighter again. “Past tense, then, yeah?”

“What?”

“Loved. You said you loved me.”

Louis sighs. Of course it’s not past tense, of course he stills loves Zayn. But he just- why can’t Zayn just be fucking honest. “Zayn, come on, you have to- you have to give me something, I feel like such- such a fucking fool, feel like, like, everyone knows what to do except me, and I just- I’ve put my cards on the table, I always have, and I just- please just tell me the truth. I need at least some idea of what happened. Just give me the truth.”

“’s a big thing to ask for, Lou.”

“You used to say you’d give me the world,” and it’s such a cruel thing to do, in this in between state, this no mans land, to throw out a memory of the time when they had it all.

“S’that what you want to hear now?”

“Stop fucking- just fucking tell me, please. I don’t care at this point, I just need to know, I’ll always love you, and I’ll always support you, but I just- I just don’t understand.”

Zayn sighs, turns to Louis. “You meant the fucking world to me, Lou. Always did. S’why I couldn’t talk to you. I was so scared, and I’m sorry, but I just. I loved you more than maybe I should’ve, and I didn’t know how to deal with it.”

Louis pauses. They’d always been affectionate, but for the last year of their friendship, it was solidly that- friendship, never anything more. The words _more than maybe I should’ve_  echo in his ears, and he wonders if Zayn was happy with just that.

“I loved you more than maybe I should’ve, too,” he says. “Still do.”

“Still do,” Zayn confirms. They’re facing each other, having pushed back the seats so they’re almost horizontal.

 “I can’t lose you again.” It’s a warning more than anything else.

“You- you won’t.”

Louis yawns. This feels like progress, but it’s 4am. He just wants sleep. “I think,” he says, before he fades off completely, “I think we need to work on our communication skills.”

~

When Louis wakes up, it’s under the sun. He feels like he hasn’t seen it in years.

**Author's Note:**

> this was super pointless the song just killed me seven hundred times and writing zouis fic is how i resurrect myself, apparently. im just surprised it has some semblance of plot, i thought it'd end up being 7k of me screaming. its still got literally no structure tho sorryyyyy


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